


dirty & sweet

by allmywill



Category: Duran Duran, The Power Station (Supergroup)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Humorous Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Prompt Fill, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22242793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmywill/pseuds/allmywill
Summary: John gets it on by himself, until Andy decides to join.
Relationships: Andy Taylor/John Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	dirty & sweet

**Author's Note:**

> another prompt from my tumblr inbox: John getting off on air/during an interview. i twisted that narrative a bit but i hope you enjoy!!

_1985_

John has spent the past hour lazing around the studio, alone. His bass is nearby, waiting to be graced by his fingers. But he has other things on his mind: other things like drugs, like sex, and where and when he’s going to get either of them next. He sinks further into the sofa, letting the cigarette in his hand burn and watching as the smoke slowly dissipates in the air.

He could use a shag. The only other people, as far as he knows, in the studio currently are the rest of the band: Robert, Tony, Bernard, and Andy. He doesn’t want to leave the studio. He knows himself too well. He’ll go from bar to bar all night long, then off with some girl, whoever deems him worthy of taking back to a sleazy hotel room. He’ll wake in an unfamiliar place with someone he won’t care enough about to see again. It’s sad when he really thinks about it. He tries not to dwell on it too much.

The cigarette burns down to his fingers, and he quickly stubs it out in the ashtray beside him before it has a chance to burn his skin. He feels lonely now that the light has gone out, as if that cigarette was keeping him company. Perhaps it was. He doesn’t even know what the other guys are doing now; they left the room a while ago. Maybe they’re ready to record something. Maybe they’ve all forgotten about him completely.

He thinks back to his arousal. His leathers are constricting already, but even more so as his hardness grows. It looks like it’s a solo act for him tonight. John slowly slips a hand down the front of the luscious black material coating his legs. He closes his eyes as he takes his own cock in his hand.

He tries to picture his ideal, perfect woman, but he finds that he just _can’t_. He can’t focus, his mind a relentless jumble. It’s no wonder he set his bass down earlier, giving up on trying to play anything. He needs something real, _someone_ real to ground him, to bring him back down to earth again.

An image of Andy pops in his head. He’s playing his guitar, shredding away without a care in the world. He grinds against his instrument as he rocks out, throwing his head back in pleasure. Or is it from the adrenaline of playing live, the blood that rushes wildly when one is performing? John doesn’t know why he came to mind, but he’s so into it now that he can’t will himself to stop. He stifles a moan as he pumps himself, imagining Andy’s hands on him instead of his own.

Before he can stop, there’s the unmistakable sound of a door opening. His eyes shoot open and he looks up. As if the universe wanted to torture him, there stands the same man from behind his eyelids, the one who he was just jacking off to the image of. He starts to wonder if he moaned his name. _Fuck_. His heart sinks, a silent free fall in his chest.

Their eyes meet. John’s hand is still wrapped around his cock, buried beneath his skin tight leathers. He’s frozen in place. It’s obvious what he had been doing. He half expects Andy to freak and retreat to the other side of the door once more, but he does the exact opposite. He enters the small room and closes the door behind him. John swallows as he hears the click of the lock. _What the fuck is going on?_

He pulls his hand out of his leathers, finally. “What... what are doing?”

Andy does something even more strange. He smiles. “I could ask you the same question, Johnny. I thought you’d enjoy a little company.”

John flushes bright red. He’s still achingly hard and Andy is _not_ helping matters. Not yet, at least. “Well, I mean...”

He takes a few steps closer to him. John panics and gets up, backing into the soundboard behind him and pressing a few buttons in the process. Great, just great. Now he’s fucking up the equipment, too.

“I was going to help you out, but forget it.” Andy turns to the door again. John panics, again, grabbing his sleeve and stopping him.

“No,” John breathes. “Please stay.”

Before either of them can utter another word, Andy presses a hand into John’s crotch, palming him. He looks down, into his eyes, since he’s not wearing those sunglasses that are practically glued to his face at this point. He groans as he’s backed further into the soundboard.

“Who’s on your mind?” Andy asks, reducing John to a mere puddle with such a simple touch. “Who’s making you touch yourself like that?”

John would lie, though it would be quite counterproductive considering their situation right now. “You. Grinding on that fuckin’ guitar the way you do.”

Andy smirks, proud. “So I get _dirty sweet_ Johnny all riled up, huh?”

John nods, throwing his head back as Andy slips a hand down his leathers. He pumps him harder and starts to run his other hand along the curve of his ass, teasing him. He reaches out and clutches onto him wherever he can, completely overwhelmed by the stimulation but wanting more at the same time.

“If we weren’t here right now, I’d have you on the bed in the hotel and fuck you into the damn mattress.” Andy can tell he’s close, using his words to drive him even more wild. “I’d pull your hair, give it to you rough. Make you scream.”

John visualizes it and it’s getting difficult to hang on. “Please,” he whines, bucking into Andy’s hand. “I want you so bad.”

“Gonna come for me, babe?” Andy’s voice is low in his ear, his breath hot and inviting.

John releases with a cry, spilling all over his hand and the black leather he’s wearing. He’s panting, clutching onto Andy harder as he comes down from his high. Andy pulls him in for a sloppy kiss, their lips colliding with force. He leans back and feels another button get pushed in.

Then he hears it. Andy’s voice, then his own, playing throughout the room. 

They both jump apart, Andy lunging forward and hitting a bunch of buttons until the sound stops. “Fucking hell!” he exclaims, then starts to laugh.

John tucks himself back into his trousers, covered in his own juices still. “ _Jesus_. We better figure out how to erase that. Like right now.”

“Yeah. Before your moans make the album,” Andy chuckles. “The fans would love it.”

“Hell yeah they would.” John watched as Andy presses more buttons. “I’d like to take you up on that offer, by the way. _Get it on_...” he starts to sing, winking at Andy. 

They’re both smirking at this point. “Oh yeah?” Andy asks. “Let’s get cleaned up and get out of here, then.”

“Not until you erase that recording!”

“Alright, alright...”


End file.
